Husbands, Households and I Need Help

So, a couple of weeks ago Mr Carmichael had a birthday (yes, another) and as his birthday always falls on, or around, the first May Bank holiday and the weather forecast was clement he invited the fam for food, festivities and something else. Hmmm, what was it again? Oh yes, golf.

oh so suave (www.dann-onlin.com)
oh so suave (www.dann-online.com)

Anyway, in preparation for the inundation (out of towners) I cleaned Casa Carmichael from her tippy tippy tip toes to her blonde highlights, discovering as I went that the Carmichaels possessed nary the quantity of duvets, fitted sheets or pillow cases to cocoon the advancing masses. With daughters various at uni and flatting south of the river, such things are spread to the four winds at present.

Oooh, I thought, shopping time!

With joy in my heart I headed for the newly renovated John (‘never knowingly undersold’) Lewis in High Wycombe. And returned with elegant paisley bedding for Mr C and me.

Ok, I did forget the fitted sheet and the required duvet so excited was I by the choice of pretty on offer. However, we made do. Particularly niece #1 who had to sleep under blankets. How retro is that?

I had just put fresh towels in the landing loo and was admiring my work- flushed phizog in the gleaming mirror when the door fell off its Edwardian hinges and attacked me.

The Edwardians made their doors both big and heavy but my luck was in. I was facing the aggressor and could parry the advance. Shaking, I propped the loose door up and exited the war zone.

“The landing loo door’s fallen off its hinges,” I told Mr C that afternoon. “It nearly killed me.”

Moments later hearing a bang, a crash and a loud grunt I rushed from my afternoon nap (cleaning exhaustion) thinking that mi marido had fallen down the stairs. I was wrong.

As I hurtled past the landing loo to rescue him I noticed the door was missing. Well, not exactly missing. More, caved in on top of the basin and Mr Carmichael. The newly spritzed mirror was hanging from one hook and there were two new and largish holes in the wall beside it.

“I told you the door was broken,” I said hauling said door off his back.

“I though you said toilet,” he replied as he straightened up and rubbed his head.

“I said door.”

“Well, that’s not what I heard.”

Hmmmm. It’s a funny thing the vortex that I spend my married life speaking into. Megaphones don’t help. Enunciation is a waste of time and energy. I crave an ear not blocked with manly own thoughts and single track reception.

“Could you strip the bed?” I asked a couple of days ago on rising to see to the puppy, Lyle. “If you can’t strip it, at least don’t make it.” I cannot bring myself to unmake a made bed.

Needless to say the bed was made when I went back up. And it was a Dog Day the next morning.

“Did you strip the bed?” I asked with some venom on Day Three.

I knew the answer and decided, an hour or so later, that clean paisley sheets were my priority. I stripped our bed and lugged the pile of cotton downstairs, stopping to chat to Mr C about something golf related. With bulging arms and tripping feet I struggled past him and proceeded to wash and dry the bedding through the course of the day.

Hours later I carried the results past him, upstairs and, with pride in my heart, made the marital bed. Boy, did I feel virtuous.

Preparing the bbq with daughter #1 as the sun went over the yardarm we were distracted by husband/father crashing through the kitchen, paws filled to the brim with……………..clean paisley.

“I’ve stripped the bed,” he said proudly. “You thought I’d forgotten, didn’t you?”

paisley perfection (John Lewis website)
paisley perfection (John Lewis website)

 

 

 

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59 thoughts on “Husbands, Households and I Need Help

  1. That’s so funny, but it’s not you that needs help! I’m so glad that I’m not alone in suffering with the husband/male selective hearing syndrome. My tactic is to repeat the instruction twice and then later try and get him to admit he can’t remember what I said!!

      1. Maybe you would have more of his attention if you asked your questions in a less dressed state? Or if you offered a sexual reward now and then randomly – so he’d better pay attention as he never knows when.

      2. Don’t have a husband. Not my thing – if I want a creature not listening to me, I can always get a cat – oh wait, I have two of THOSE … :P

      3. Well – mostly. YES, I am astonished, too. But they know, “NO” means NO … and “Shhh” means quiet. And my male can even obey the command “sit”. Cats? Yes, cats. People keep assuring me, the cat shelter did not smuggle dogs in my flat.

      4. well, i hope you saw that tube of American cat seeing off American dog and saving her American boy. Gripping and has made me reevaluate felines.

      5. YES, that one went viral, reached even me here in remote Hannover, Germany. But I still remember the news of the one cat that terrorized its family … they can fight both ways, I’d better treat my two well. :P

  2. Hahaha… I sent the OH to Specsavers for a free hearing test as he is ALWAYS mishearing me, and he mumbles so I can’t hear him. “You’re deaf”, he says. “You mumble”, says I. His hearing is within normal levels though apparently as he gets older he will struggle with higher (i.e. female) voices. So it’s all MY fault…

    1. Ah, I must not relay that to Mr C, it would be grist to his mill. Lyle, my delightful, wonderful and handsome puppy ONLY responds to high pitched female voices. Good boy.

  3. If I had a quarter for every time George misheard me…well, I’d have a lot of quarters. :) Sorry about the door, though! Or, really, the wall behind it. Was it time to repaint anyway?

  4. Mr. C’s uncle Michael could successfully read the paper, listen to both the t.v. in one room, radio blaring from the kitchen, and still carry on a conversation. However, those occasions were of his own decision. Other times, he didn’t hear a word one said. Hence, the mug I got him which read… “I’m not deaf, I’m ignoring you.” It was his favorite mug, and he quoted it whenever the opportunity arose. Perhaps that mug is still in production. ;-)

  5. Oh! Oh! What are we to DO with them?? My father is shortly to have a minor operation to have gromits fitted because he has recently become so deaf. ‘It’s very tiring when he never hears a word I say,’ my mother complains. ‘You mean this is a new state of affairs?’ I ask. When I had both husband and son at home, I often commented that I had already started talking to walls. I’m thinking of taping all our conversations, so I have archive evidence. You do tell a hilarious story, tho!

  6. There’s nothing like the feel of freshly washed linen, but getting it on there has become a real chore in this house. We bought a new mattress, never thinking that we should lift it and check its weight. It is SO heavy that it takes two of us to change the sheets. I told Glen that if he drops off the perch first I will have to sleep on one side of the bed until it’s no longer healthy to do so, then swap to the other side. Who knows what I will do after that.

    Poor Mr C. He must have been so proud of himself…

  7. Oh dear, oh dear Mrs C. made my morning, I’m still chuckling, but a word of warning their hearing NEVER gets better, only worse and it is always our fault for mumbling….

      1. Me too! Miss your humour that is. Like a good dry NZ SB – where is it when you need it?
        Hope you are well Mrs C – see you soon I hope :-D

  8. :-) I so get this. And I have a teenage son too, so problem magnified! Both of my boys suffer even more from tunnel vision – so putting the leftovers I have my eye on near the sides of the fridge will usually render them invisible to the male eye, while anything I want eaten needs to go right in the middle. Now that I’ve sussed it, it works a treat.

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